Gifts from the earth

It's the third week of November and I'm kneeling in the garden, wind biting my exposed skin, cold and wet seeping through my green coveralls. I want nothing to do with this frost-bitten piece of earth. I want to be back inside, on the couch, in front of the fire, carrying on with day three of my spectacular pity party. I'm talking epic: drinking pots of tea (wishing it was something stronger), staring at the wall, out the window, at the ceiling, for hours, wondering how the hell did I get here -- on this couch, on this farm, in this life.

But instead, I'm outside digging for potatoes. I'm angry at the weather for its betrayal, the spuds for not digging themselves (read: not having anyone to dig them with), me for not doing this sooner. Another job I didn't get to this season.

I push myself to stand, shove the spade into the earth and take chunks out of the first clump of potatoes. Dammit. I can't even dig potatoes right. I drop back to my knees, fumble around behind me for the hand trowel, sit back on my heels and take a deep breath. Fucking relax and just dig. Not everything has to be a battle.

And so I begin, scraping away at the top layers of soil with the trowel, tentatively at first, until I unearth the tops of the spuds. Then gently, now using my fingers, I dig around the edges until I can scoop each one by hand. It's a good crop this year -- plentiful, creamy-skinned, blemish free, spared from blight or the ravenous potato beetles. And delicious. (I know this from having grabbled* a few for Thanksgiving.) Potatoes that taste of the sweet earth.

I've grown a small crop of potatoes for the past few years and harvest still leaves me a bit wonderstruck. Like a kid again. Earlier in the season you dig a trench, layer in compost, plant cured chunks of potato with at least one eye each, and then hill the plants with soil or mulch as they grow. For each chunk planted, several potatoes grow, the number dependent on moisture, soil nutrients and temperature. Perhaps love. One becomes many. Nature replicated.

As I work I relax into the task, like walking meditation, but digging. I think less of the couch and more about where I am. In my garden, on my farm, surrounded by hundreds of acres of woods, a place I dreamed about for years. The biting wind and my cold and cramped knees become less nuisance, and more a reminder that I'm alive. Here. Right now. In a life I chose. Yes, this moment is a choice. And the next moment, and the next. I can moan about the cold and the work and being alone, or celebrate this place and the food I've grown. Will continue to grow, for I'm already thinking about next season. 

I feel the darkness lessen its grip. Gifts from the earth. Real buried treasure.

* Grabble: v. to rob potatoes here and there from the edges of the hills.

First greens!

Happy first day of May! 

May all your weeds be wildflowers and may all your bugs be ladybirds!

Madcap Monday: Horse power

A growing number of ecologically-minded small farms are turning to draft animals (horses, donkeys and/or mules) to work the land instead of using tractors and other heavy machinery. We're not one of them. Our old (28ish) thoroughbred horse is retired and largely functions as barnyard eye-candy. And the donkeys? Well, they're supposed to be on predator watch, but we all know how good a job they're doing there... or not.

However, the grassy paths in the kitchen garden were looking a bit unruly last week but instead of cutting with the mower, I enlisted the help of my four-legged friends.

While they mucked up the beds a bit, they did a great job razing the grass to more manageable levels. And the natural fertilizer* they left behind can't be beat! Now if I could only get them to help me plant peas...

* Yes, I know you have to age manure before you use it in vegetable beds.

Seedlings under lights + 2012 garden plan (so far)

2012 seedlings, before thinning

As this space is meant to include a garden journal of sorts, I thought I'd provide a quick update of what's growing under lights.

I had good germination this year (85% on average), using a heat mat to help get the tomatoes, basil, peppers and eggplant started. After cooking the first batch of Brandywine tomato seedlings, I realized I need to be much more careful about moving the seedlings off the mat sooner. Of the varieties that didn't do too well -- Jimmy Nardello peppers (2 out of 7 pods), cinnamon basil (3 out of 9 pods), for example, were from older seeds, so that's not too surprising.

I decided with this year's garden to grow more of less; put differently, more quantity of food from fewer crops/varieties.  So, as an example, I took brassicas off the list (no broccoli or brussel sprouts) and only four varieties of tomatoes (not 18, like I did my first year). Last year's food garden totally got away on me (we're talking invasive weeds, horrible insects and rampaging deer) and as I'm still on a steep self-taught learning curve (mountain), I want to keep this year's garden manageable.

So, taking a peek under the lights, there are:

Tomatoes: Brandywine, Amish Paste, Isis Candy (new), Baxter Bush (new)
Peppers: Bull Nose, Early Cal Wonder, Jimmy Nardello
Eggplant: Pingtung
Leeks: Scotland
Onions: Evergreen Bunching (already have some in coldframes, and will direct seed more this weekend, plus plant some yellow and red sets)
Kale: Red Russian
Swiss Chard: Bright Lights (have some in the coldframe -- will move outside this weekend as looking leggy and droopy inside)
Basil: Cinnamon, Lime and Italian Large leaf
Sage: White
Parsley: Single hardy Italian

Plus some sunflowers (doing beautifully), zinnias (doing beautifully until the cat nipped the tops off of half) and marigolds (the first batch was a total bust -- 1 out of 25 germinated, so I've started a second tray with new seed).

This weekend I'll be starting my cukes (National Pickling & Mexican Sour Gherkin (new)) and winter squash (Butternut, Buttercup and/or Acorn), and maybe some summer squash (Cocozelle zucchini (new) & pumpkins (Small Sugar & Connecticut Field).

I'll also be direct seeding some peas (Tom Thumb (new) and maybe some Sutton's Harbinger), turnips as companions (Early Snowball (new)), carrots (Danvers 126 & Nantes Coreless) and beets (mixed heirloom) and whatever else strikes my fancy! I'll also top up the coldframes with more lettuce, spinach, radishes, etc. 

The traditional 'planting out' day for frost-sensitive plants in my zone is May '2-4' weekend (aka Victoria Day weekend), which this year is May 19 to 21st -- or approximately three weeks from now. I originally thought I may get out sooner, but we were hit with frosty sub-zero temps last night so despite our March 'heat wave,' I think I'll just stick to tradition.

So on the planting out weekend, I'll direct seed lots of beans (Kentucky Wonder Pole, Contender Snap bean (new), Blue Lake bush (new) and maybe some rare heirlooms that I'll write about later), some heirloom corn (Mandan Bride) and four different kinds of organic seed potatoes that I got from a farmer friend. So exciting! The tomatoes, cukes and peppers will move into the yet-to-be-covered-in-plastic-because-the-weather-has-been-crappy greenhouse.

I'll also be seeding more flowers as companions (California poppies, nasturtiums, more sunflowers, to name just a few) and then there are the yet-to-be-ordered starter plants for the new herb garden.  And then there's the plants for the bee garden and... and...

Hey, wait a minute... so much for not getting in over my head this season!

New-to-me potting bench

When we first moved to the farm I was thrilled that the former owners left a small potting shed. Sited conveniently across from the kitchen garden and parallel to the hayfield (tucked into the windbreak), it would be the perfect place to store all my gardening stuff, as well as a place where I could do my seeding, play in the dirt, and putter.


However after the first season it was no longer a horticulturalist's dream space, but a total nightmare, filled to the brim with a chaotic mess of too many pots, trays and tools. When the snow melted, I pulled everything out of the shed and except for one box of "stuff" that got chucked in there on moving day, most of the gardening items were still useful and needed.

At the same time I've been trying to figure out how to create a more useable work & storage space, I've also been revisiting our poultry-keeping practices. While the chickens thrive in and around the barn during the winter months, I've found it very tricky to fence off an area in the barnyard (adjacent to their laying boxes) that keeps them contained and safe from predators (especially foxes) as the equines share the same space.

For some time I've been thinking about building a moveable coop -- something that will allow the chickens to graze on open pasture within the confines of an electric fence (rather than wander willy-nilly as they are now) -- but I've been put off the building part because of my already too-long to do list. (Not to mention the fact that I've never built a coop before, or anything resembling a coop. Lucas usually does the building, but he's already got enough on his to-do list, and I know I can do it myself and I want to do it myself, but it's still a bit intimidating. Even though I wish it wasn't.)

Then it hit me: I could turn the potting shed (which wasn't working as a potting shed) into the chicken coop. While it might not be moveable right away -- I need to find an old (read cheap) trailer chassis to put it on -- I can at least use it to start the next batch of chicks and then encircle the shed/coop with some electric fence netting.

If I was moving the chickens in, then I needed to move the growing stuff out. I envisioned a space where I could store all the tools, trays, pots and amendments, where there was room to mix and prepare soil, and also a workbench where I could do my seeding and transplanting.

So I set up shop in the drive shed. While the second bay (of three) is currently home to various tractor implements and the riding lawn mower, and the third houses a large pile of wood and offcuts that are too useful to discard (plus some inherited 'junk', like several prison bed frames and a garage door that doesn't fit any building on our land), the first is where I've set up my new-to-me potting bench, using an old bathroom vanity that I found in the barn, plus a jerry-rigged table made with some leftover plywood sheeting.

As the space is unheated and uninsulated, and open to the elements on one side, it can be a bit chilly when the weather turns.

But it's got a great view of the barnyard (complete with bleating goat soundtrack), plus it's bright, spacious (I can mix small batches of potting mix in the Tupperware, and larger batches on a tarp on the dirt floor) and inviting to little hands who want to help.

I hope the chickens will like their new digs; I certainly enjoy mine.

Buried treasure

While I was clearing away winter debris in preparation for tilling the kitchen garden yesterday, I noticed some very un-weed-like sprouts poking up from one of the garden beds.

I scooped the dirt away from the base and found this.

The greens in the cold frames won't be ready for a few weeks, so this find was like unearthing buried treasure.

While most of the onions that I'd harvested in the fall have long since been eaten (it was a disappointing harvest), and the rest sprouted (not good storage onions at all) and I'd say only half made it to this size (most were the size of golf balls), this robust specimen overwintered beautifully. I pierced the skin of one and it just dripped with sweet living juice. There were several more like this, too.

I noticed some similar sprouts in the garlic bed, even though I didn't plant any cloves here last fall (the kitchen garden is undergoing a renovation, of sorts). A pack of marauding deer had infiltrated the garden late last summer and in one night of debauchery I lost my lettuce, broccoli, brussels sprouts, sunflowers, leeks and all the tops on my garlic and onions. When it came time to harvest, without the greens to guide me, I didn't know where all the cloves and onions were anymore. I thought I'd harvested all of them. Guess not!

Rather than individual cloves, these are fully-sprouted garlic heads, pearly white and smooth, without their papery overcoats.

While Lucas has little to no interest in growing food (he's all over the eating, though) he loves growing garlic. Or the idea of growing garlic. Me growing garlic. Truth be told, maybe he just loves garlic.

When I showed him my find, he dug up one of the garlic heads, pried away a clove, dusted off the dirt and popped one in his mouth. At first it tasted milder than cured garlic, but then delivered a firey kick.

I haven't yet decided what to do with these -- I think I'll roast then mash them, then smear a thick paste over some crusty bread for a early season homemade garlic treat. In the meantime, I have roughly six heads waiting in a basket in our multi-purpose laundry-bathroom-farmcrap room... and it smells delicious in there; a mix of spring earth, greens and of course, garlic. And to think they call it the stinking rose!

It's funny how this tiny harvest has got my green thumbs (and fingers) even more itchy to sink my hands into the sun-warmed earth and get growing. And to think it's only March!

Sharing a great idea -- homemade soil blocks

One of the joys of blogging isn't only in the writing, but in the reading. I've learned loads (and found much inspiration) simply by reading other people's blogs. Annie's Kitchen Garden blog is no exception.

In today's post Granny shared a tutorial on homemade soil blocks, which I, in turn, wanted to share with you.

Source: http://annieskitchengarden.blogspot.com

It's such a simple idea, and yet one that I would never have come up with myself. My brain just isn't wired that way.

In Eliot Coleman's book "The New Organic Gardener", he devotes an entire chapter to soil blocks, which are pretty much what the name implies -- a block of lightly compressed potting mix with a small preformed indentation for the seed.

Source: http://annieskitchengarden.blogspot.com

There are several advantages to soil blocks. The blocks are both the container and the growing medium, so you don't need to bother with pots and plastic. You can adjust the block size for any seed, and even transplant blocks into one another when it comes time to pot up you seedlings. When transplanted to the field, the seedling becomes quickly established.

The downside is the upfront price. Johnny's Selected Seeds sells them starting at US$25. A Canadian company (SoilBlockers.ca) sells their mini blocker for $25 and a medium four or five blocker for $30. I get that it's one-time investment, but it can add up.

I've been reusing a motley assortment of pots and flats for my seed starting, but I might try Granny's so-smart, low cost idea for making blockers out of medicine bottles, drawer pulls and assorted hardware. Thanks, Granny!

What do you use for seed starting?

Say 'no' to Monsanto seeds

Blogger Erin at "garden now -- think later!" just posted a link to this list of seeds owned by Seminis/Monsanto, which includes everything from beans to watermelon. Every gardener, farmer and eater needs to know about this list.

Monsanto, the world's largest seed and biotechnology company, has a long evil history of terrorizing food growers and seed savers in the company's effort to control the global seed market.*

Whoever controls the seeds, controls the food. Our food.

So before you order your spring seeds, check out this list. Then source from seed companies that sell only Monsanto-free seeds and stay away from these varieties. Seeds should be the building blocks for a robust and healthy food system, not profit-making corporate commodities.

Sourcing heirloom and open-pollinating varieties of seeds is a simple but powerful way to challenge food dictators and biopirates and reclaim food democracy. Put your money where your mouth is. Source, grow and save patent-free, chemical-free, GE-free seeds. Join this grassroots revolution and just say "no" to Monsanto.

"It is not inevitable that corporations will control our lives and rule the world.
We have a real possibility to shape our own futures.
We have an ecological and social duty to ensure that the food that nourishes us is not a stolen harvest."

~ Vandana Shiva, author of "Stolen Harvest: The Hijacking of the Global Food Supply"

* For a great read on why to keep Monsanto out of your veggie patch, visit "A Garden for the House" here.

Ten essential herbs

Last weekend I attended the Guelph Organic Conference, which was a wonderful opportunity to share time and space with a vibrant community of people there to discuss ideas and practices for a more sustainable, healthier and robust local food system.

I attended several workshops and while I learned a lot from each, one of the most readily applicable was "Ten Essential Herbs" presented by Kerry Hackett, a medical herbalist based in Peterborough, Ont. I'm often a bit wary about these "top 10" kinds of presentations, but even Hackett said that she finds "all herbs essential" and that this was her top 10 list when she assembled the presentation.

While herbs are commonly known for their edible and nutritive properties (what would Italian food be without basil, oregano and thyme?), they also have amazing medical and therapeutic properties and are among the oldest forms of healing.

Hackett's list (with a few of their main functions/actions) included:

• Marshmallow (Althaea officinalis) -- soothes, cools, calms and coats
• Calendula (Calendula officinalis) -- a brilliant "first aid plant"
• Cayenne (Capsicum minimum) -- stimulant, pain reliever, stops bleeding
• St. John's Wort (Hypericum perforatum) -- aids with agitation and anxiety, also nerve damage
• Lavender (Lavandula angustifolia) -- helps relax, also good for cuts, bites and burns + muscle aches
• Chamomile (Matricaria recutita) -- good for inflammation, indigestion, fever, insomnia
• Comfrey (Symphytum officinale) - she spoke mainly on its properties when used externally for cuts, burns, bruises, etc.
• Dandelion (Taraxacum officinale) -- good detoxifier, aids skin ailments
• Thyme (Thymus vulgaris) -- useful for sore throats, dry coughs, plus cuts/bites
• Nettle (Urtica dioica) -- nutritive tonic & detoxifier

Beyond simply listing the properties of these 10 herbs, Hackett explained how to make herbal teas (hot infusions, cold infusions and decocted teas), macerated tinctures and infused oils, and gave suggestions on best methods of drying -- all which helped bring light to the rudimentary knowledge that I'd so far only gleaned from books.

While the practice of tending and healing with herbs is an ancient one, and some herbal cures seem rather fanciful in today's over-prescribed world, I find many simple remedies are both restorative and nurturing. My friend Karen is the green-thumb behind Porcupine Creek Farm and her beautiful Cold Comfort Blend tea, made with spearmint, yarrow and mallow blossoms, is our go-to remedy when we're suffering from a cold or respiratory infection. And just the other day my throat was feeling raw, so I took some Oil of Oregano in my orange juice. Wonderful stuff, that.

I've been cultivating herbs over the past few years, but on a small-scale and casual basis; herbs were more like accessories than intentional parts of my garden plan. I've grown basil, oregano and thyme in the vegetable garden, stuck some chamomile and lemon balm in the strawberry patch, scattered bergamot, Echinacea and lavender amongst the flower beds, and found mullein, comfrey and chicory growing wild throughout the farm. Then there's the small collection of culinary herbs that Ella helps me tend on the deck just off the kitchen, composed of favourites such as basil, rosemary, tarragon, parsley and the like.

Since we're approaching our fourth summer on the farm, I've been looking to increase the efficiency of the land while reducing my workload. This means that before I plant something in the garden, for example, I want to consider its function(s) and favour the tending of plants that serve more than one purpose.

While I have a large collection (read jungle) of perennial flowers that grow in the garden closest to the house, they are really mostly eye candy (and overgrown eye candy at that), though the bees do love the poppies. I've been thinking (for a while) about revamping that space to make it both beautiful and functional and Hackett's presentation helped give me the boost I need to start planning for this spring.

I haven't decided what'll live there yet, but this list gives me a good place to start. And as Kerry Hackett says, herbs "enliven the soul just from their beauty." I think we can all use a little soul enlivening, don't you?

Apologies and an explanation

Hi, folks:

Just a quick note to let you know that we haven't been overrun or consumed by rose chafers. Life just got really busy since my last post on June 22.

The kids have been home for summer holidays, we've been dealing with a lot more predator issues this year (deer and foxes and bears, oh my!) and I got another job (in addition to the one(s) I already have). I also took a 10-day solo trip out to the east coast for some exploring, soul searching and recharging.

The kids go back to school next week and I'll start writing again then. In the meantime, I thought I'd share a few photos of the goodness that's been growing on the farm lately.

They're rose chafers... I think!

I think I've finally figured it out -- these little beasties are rose chafers, or Macrodactylus subspinosus!


According to Jeffrey Hahn, Associate Professor in the Department of Entomology at the University of Minnesota:

• An adult rose chafer is a moderate-sized insect, slender, pale green to tan in color with reddish‑brown or orangish spiny legs and short antennae.

• The larval stage, or grub, has a brown head and conspicuous legs and its body is bent into a ‘C’ shape. Fully grown, a rose chafer larva is about 3/4-inch long.

• Adult rose chafers feed primarily on flower blossoms, especially roses and peonies, causing large, irregular holes. They also damage fruits particularly grape, raspberry, and strawberry.

• Rose chafer also feed on the foliage of many trees, shrubs and other plants, such as rose, grape, apple, cherry, and birch. Rose chafers typically damage leaves by eating the leaf tissue between the large veins, a type of injury known as skeletonizing.

Now that I know what they are, I can figure out what to do about them! Stay tuned!

Help with pest ID.... please!

It was late May when I first noticed them in the sumac.


Then they moved onto my beloved roses and peonies.


But when they attacked the strawberries, they made this fight personal.


Just a few days ago Ella help me pick a small, but beautiful, harvest of strawberries.



Now the patch looks like this. Decimated.


I've been calling these pests Japanese Beetles, based on their behaviour, the damage they inflict and the kinds of plants they favour, but now I'm not so sure. According to some of my reading, the front of Japanese Beetles are dark metallic green while their wings are a metallic dark tan. Also, there are two small patches of short white hairs on the rear and five white hair tufts along each side.

These pests are neither metallic, nor do they have those distinctive white markings, which are key identification features.

However, I have found many of these -- or something that looks like these -- in the ground, which are the larvae of Japanese Beetles:

Photo source: Agriculture & Agri-Food Canada

So what are these? False Japanese Beetles? Mutant Japanese Beetles? Something else entirely?

Their bodies measure approximately 1 cm or 0.5 inches.


The photos are a bit dark but as these beasties are solar-powered -- they're sluggish when it's cloudy out and most active when it's sunny -- I had to photograph them in dim light.

I'm desperate to identify these as this year's infestation is much worse that last year's and I've got to take some action. I've read that there are a couple of treatments for Japanese Beetles, namely milky spore and/or beneficial nematodes, but if this is another kind of beetle, then that may prove ineffectual.

Any suggestions, advice or stories from your own garden/farm trenches would be greatly appreciated! Thank you!

Growing under glass: a cold frame update

I realize it's been ages since I've written anything about what's growing in the cold frames.

My last post was in late April, when the spinach was in its just-sprouted stage and the parsley hadn't even germinated yet.

That was then:

And this is now:


And taking a peek in the leaf lettuce and mesclun mix box... then:

And now:

I still find the transformation extraordinary -- from seed to food in just seven weeks! I know the argument for shopping at the grocery store is the "convenience" but really -- growing greens this way isn't just convenient, it's easy and so much more delicious that soggy or wilted store-bought produce.

And given all the battles that I'm waging in the kitchen garden with the weeds and the grass and the bugs -- not to mention managing these wild weather swings -- this cold frame growing seems so much more civilized.

Even Jack and Ella have been a great help with harvesting greens...


... and making delicious salads for some zero-mile inspired dinners, such as this one featuring homegrown eggs, herbs and asparagus.

Ella especially has embraced visiting the cold frames and bringing in a basket for each meal -- "just like in the pioneer times, mama."


The one lesson we learned is this: the props that we use to hold the windows open need to be more secure.

This one was the victim of an unruly gust of wind that lifted the open window and dropped it on the frame base, smashing it and beheading the lettuce and onions beneath it. As the bed is completely contaminated with glass, I think I'll let everything go to seed (the mesclun mix is already there) before removing all the soil and starting again.

On the whole, growing under glass has been a hugely rewarding experience and as the weather heats up and these greens near the end of their growing season, I can't wait to see what grows next.

First strawberry!

Between the rains

We've had a lot of rain lately, and while the day started out clouded by a thick fog and the weatherman said to expect more heavy showers, we were pleasantly surprised by a large orb in the sky that resembled something called "the sun."

I took advantage of this calm between storms to capture some of the new life in the garden.



Even the lilac buds have started to sprout!

As I was clearing away last year's leafy debris from under the lilacs, I noticed this garden friend. Ever since reading Kenneth Graham's The Wind in the Willows, I always think of toads as being "distinguished" -- like Mr. Toad Esq. of Toad Hall.


Isn't he handsome? OK, maybe handsome isn't the right word. Did I mention I got a bit too much sun today?

Back to the garden:

The rhubarb is filling in, which is exciting as the kids are already asking for fresh rhubarb crumble.

The garlic chives are also growing well, but the kids aren't nearly as excited about these.

Over in the cold frames, the spinach is still in its spikey stage...

... but the heirloom Mesclun mix is greening up nicely, though the leaf lettuce (not shown) isn't nearly as leafy yet.

Besides the cold frames, there isn't anything growing in the garden yet. I know, I'm late -- I was hoping to have my peas in by now, among other things, but there is so, so, so much tidying up to do in the kitchen garden. Then there's the rain.

It's been hard not to get overwhelmed with what needs to be done before any seeds or seedlings even touch dirt, but I decided to try on some patience and perseverance and simply take advantage of today's sunshine, while it lasted.

As I was pulling weeds and grass, I was thrilled to find loads of thick, juicy worms in the ground. Just three years ago, the soil was devoid of all life as the previous owners had used chemicals on this site. Today, it was teaming with it. Unfortunately, I also found lots of Japanese Beetle larvae. Talk about raining on my parade...

While gardening with hand tools is slow going, there's something delicious and satisfying about this kind of quiet and intentional work. Slowing down and working deliberately helps strengthen the connection to the land that grows your food, making the relationship that much more personal and intimate. That's what I find, at least.

I didn't get all that I wanted accomplished, but I got the root beds cleared and ready for the first outdoor planting of carrots, parsnips, onions and beets. (This is only the first section; I got the left-side done, as well as the next section down. And if you're wondering what that leafy clump is, it's a patch of perennial wormwood, good for repelling deer and carrot fly.)


I was hoping to get some veggies seeded, and perhaps transplant some beets, but just as I finished up, stretched my back and shook the dirt off my hands, the sky opened up and the rain began to fall. But this time, after several lovely hours playing in the newly-warmed dirt, I welcomed it.